


Connections, Small and Profound

by Mando_Cyare



Series: Connections [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Armor Kink, Awkwardness, Biting, Blood and Injury, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Found Family, Glove Kink, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Comeplay, Mutual Pining, Naked Female Clothed Male, Oral Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship Negotiation, Rough Oral Sex, The Helmet Stays On, Touch-Starved, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, implied/referenced PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23080510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mando_Cyare/pseuds/Mando_Cyare
Summary: Sequel to Reconnect.The Mandalorian and his mechanic are forced to reexamine their relationship after sleeping together.  He has no idea what a 'relationship' would entail, and she has no desire to weigh him down with her own feelings when he's already dealing with enough.  But neither of them can stop thinking about what happened.  And even if their complicated life tries to get in the way, it feels like only a matter of time before they get drawn together again.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Connections [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658815
Comments: 24
Kudos: 187





	1. Morning after (And then it went to shit)

Chapter One:

Tesabi wasn’t surprised to wake up alone. She’d been doing that for months now in her own bunk. But when she stretched, she was immediately struck by two things. One, she was _sore_ , and two, her hand wasn’t bumping into the wall that her own bed was set against.

The unfamiliarity made her sit bolt upright, some old instinct bringing her fully awake and alert.

This was the Mandalorian’s room.

_“Din… my name is Din.”_

A strangled sort of squeak escaped her. Sweet Maker, she’d fucked the Mandalorian.

And he’d given her his _name_.

Not a soul they’d met had called him anything other than ‘Mando’. He had… She scrubbed a hand over her face, staring, wide-eyed past the foot of the bed. Then she blinked, and paused. Her clothes were folded neatly on top of a locked crate against the wall, her boots on the floor with her socks draped across them.

Seeing her clothes made her realize that she was still completely naked, the Mandalorian’s blankets pooled around her waist. Her first reaction when she peeled the covers back was to wince. She’d been right about the bruising. 

A solid bar crossed the top of her thighs from where she’d been pressed into the bench. As her fingers moved past it to her hips, she bit her lip, her stomach fluttering. Wide, hand-shaped marks of dark purple bracketed her, pressed into her waist and hips. Pressing at them, she was caught up in the twinge of pain and the heated memory of their infliction.

That had…

That had really happened.

With a groan, she remembered essentially telling him that she wanted to do it again. And he… he had essentially said _yes_.

A horrible thought occurred to her. He had been swept up in the flood of tangled chemicals in his brain from the fight, the injury, and her naked touch on skin that was always closed away from human contact. What if he had just been caught up in the afterglow? The fluttering died in her stomach and sunk like a stone. 

With another groan, she heaved herself out of bed, the groaning turning to a string of curses as she discovered that the muscles of her thighs were just as tender as the bruises. Shivering, she dressed quickly, and stepped out into the empty belly of the ship.

The ‘fresher was open and dark, and the Child’s nook was open and empty. Din had to have been up and moving for a while. It was a little startling, to think of him and use his _name_ , not just the nickname or title she had gotten so used to. Why… why had he done that? If no one else knew it, surely a Mandalorian’s name was something precious and personal. 

She didn’t want to think about that anymore, stalking over to her room. She brushed her hair and cleaned her teeth, trying not to think about the delicious soreness in her lower body. It was a feeling she hadn’t had in a _very_ long time, and even if her _mind_ was still spinning with anxiety, her body felt good. Whatever else was going to happen, last night had been _good_. 

She wouldn’t let herself regret saying yes.

000

With the cockpit door open, Din heard Tesabi get up and start moving around. All at once there’s a lightness in his stomach and a quick squeeze of tension in his chest. 

The previous night had been… unplanned, to say the least.

Just _thinking_ about it, he could almost feel her warm touch on his back again, the way she had pushed her hip into the tight clench of his hold. It was an effort not to thump his helmeted brow down against his fist, trying to shake loose all the clinging anxieties. She was nothing if not honest about her feelings. He had learned that early on when she told him outright that he couldn’t keep the Kid in the bassinet all the time, and that in order for his muscles to properly develop, he probably needed to run and exercise.

And he _knew_ , without a shadow of a doubt, that she had been just as affected by his touch as he had been by hers. She had begged him, pleaded for his touch, for _him_.

But now everything was different. She could be embarrassed, she could— Din forced the thoughts back down. That wouldn’t help. He had to trust her, trust what she’d said to him.

At _that_ memory, warmth prickled in his cheeks. She had sounded content, relaxed and liquid in a way he’d never seen before. Not an ounce of tension to be found, a serene smile on her face. Whatever else happened, Din knew he was going to treasure that memory.

He wasn’t good at this sort of thing. Feelings. He had spent his whole life living for other people. His every moment was spent working to make enough to help support his clan, taking care of them. And then came the Child. He had felt like he was breaking with the Way when he turned the kid in. Mandalorians protected children and their foundlings at any cost. They were the _future_.

Din sighed through his helmet, staring at the control panel but not really seeing it. By trying to follow the Way, he had…

A quick shake of his head, and Din surged to his feet. That wasn’t going to help. Some of the covert had gotten out. Some had _survived_. Before he could think about the pile of armor from the dead, he put a few commands into his wrist computer and sent the Child’s cradle floating down the stairs. He followed after it, boots thumping on the rungs.

Tesabi jumped when she heard him, spinning to see the child in his little hovering bed, Din descending the ladder. Fresh heat bloomed in her cheeks, chest going tight and fuzzy all over again with a nervous, hesitant excitement. When he turned, she offered a small smile.

And just like that, the knot that had been gathering in Din’s chest started to loosen. Someone happy to see him. It… it was what he did, if he really thought about it. He took care of people. And Tesabi looked… She looked _happy_. That was a good thing. That… that was good.

Then he realized that she was flushed, walking over and engaging with the Child as pink crept up her ears and down her neck. But her body language wasn’t carrying the sort of tension that usually came with embarrassment. It was… different.

“Don’t let him fool you,” he finally said. “He’s already eaten.”

Tesabi made a show of rolling her eyes and putting her hands on her hips. “Were you planning to try and get snacks from me?” It was an overdramatic tone, exaggerated so that the child knew she wasn’t angry. 

When she reached out and stroked his head, Din felt a sudden flash of warmth and calm, big leather hands reaching down. 

_Safe_. 

It was like a word, but made up of only feelings, vague impressions and thoughts. Then a flash of smaller, pale hands, a tiny green hand curled around one finger. 

_Happy._

But it was… _wrong_ somehow, not… not… Not _his_! Close by, Tesabi made a startled noise, yanking back her hand like she’d been burned. Her head lifted to him.

“Did he just…?” she began.

“I felt it, too,” he cut in, coming over to stand beside her, looking down at the Child. His little green face was smiling, ears perked as he looked between the two. 

“Those…” Tesabi’s head was spinning, though she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, considering that the little green bean could move things with his _mind_. “Those were _your_ hands, I think.”

“And yours.” 

She just hummed and nodded beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, Din saw her face melt back into a smile. When she looked back up at him, he wasn’t sure what kind of smile was showing on her face now. “He feels safe with you.”

Din… didn’t know how to respond. He was glad, of course, he wanted the little thing to feel safe and comfortable with him. He wasn’t sure if anyone but those in the covert ever had before. All he could think to say was, “you make him happy.”

“Pretty sure you do too,” she retorted, and Din smiled behind the helmet. She reached down, a bit hesitant this time, and the child took one of her fingers in both tiny claws. More warm feelings that weren’t her own briefly flooded her mind before they slowed and eventually faded completely. There was awe in her voice when she spoke again. “You’re amazing, Kiddo, you know that?”

Still holding Tesabi’s finger, the little one turned and reached towards Din, babbling excitedly. When the Mandalorian paused, the Child huffed, ears lowering and big eyes narrowing slightly. With a half-feigned sigh, Din reached out with his own gloved hand, letting the Child take hold of him as well.

It happened again, contentment flowing through both of them as if they had taken a hit of some potent spice. It lasted less than half a moment before the Child sighed and let go, laying back and closing his eyes with a contented burble.

Tesabi… Tesabi felt _amazing_. All her anxiety had melted away. She felt both refreshed and pleasantly sore, ready to take on anything without a single care in the world. Like a magnet, her eyes moved to Din, and her heart swelled. This was never something she would have imagined for herself or sought out, being a mechanic and babysitter for a famed bounty hunter.

But she was _happy_. She felt like she mattered to him. To the Child. “Hey,” she said softly. It took a moment, but Din lifted his head, helmet turning towards her. “Thank you.”

Din blinked, his mind still fuzzy from what felt like a rush of endorphins. “What?”

“Thank you,” Tesabi said again. “For…” 

Stars, there was so much she wanted to thank him for. For helping her the first time, for saving her life and tending her wounds the second. For letting her into his life and tolerating her in his space. For talking with her, indulging her much more vocal personality when he seemed to so enjoy the quiet.

“For… for _everything_.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. He had taken such good care of her last night. She wanted… Even if he didn’t have the same stupid smitten crush on her that she had on him, she wanted him to know how good he’d made her feel. He’d made her feel desired and beautiful.

Din saw the color rise into her cheeks, blooming as she continued to smile, her eyes crinkled up and shining. Hidden deep away under the beskar, his heart began to race. Just a look from her now, and all he could think of was…

“We should talk,” he said suddenly, voice coming out huskier than he’d intended. “People usually… They talk. After.” Maker, he hadn’t talked with another person so much in _years_ , maybe even decades, and now he was saying they should have a conversation he was insurmountably unprepared for.

Tesabi’s stomach dropped, even the Child’s weird mind-fuckery not enough to keep anxiety from bubbling up again. She was talking before her mind could even catch up. “I understand if you can’t again,” she said. “I mean… you’d been hurt and you probably haven’t had another person touch you in forever and—”

She stopped with a squeak as a gloved hand clapped over her mouth, the Mandalorian suddenly standing before her, filling her vision with his taller frame. She felt the hesitant brush of contact on her side; his other hand.

“Just… hold on.” His voice was rough again, silence falling as Tesabi blinked up at him, his hand slowly falling away. He didn’t touch her again, but he stayed close, helmet tilted down and focused on her. “It… it _was_ overwhelming,” he began slowly. “But… but I don’t want you to… to think that…” Kriff. This was. This was fucking _hard_. “My mind was clear,” he finally said. “I… meant what I said. After.”

Standing so close, Din got to see her eyes widen, pupils dilating as she sucked in a little gasp. When she let it out again, it was a sigh of relief, her blush deepening as she smiled shyly. “Oh,” she murmured. “I… Good. I… I meant what I said, too.”

It was Din’s turn to blush, just at the idea of her thinking of him that way, of her wanting to surrender herself to him again. He felt a little bump against his hand, looking down to see Tesabi’s hand reaching out slightly, her fingers brushing his. Slowly, he turned his hand, their fingers hooking loosely together.

Mustering a little of her nerve, she squeezed gently at his gloved hand. “Thank you for _everything_ ,” she said again, putting more emphasis on the last word this time, hoping he would understand. Her heart was racing so fast she didn’t think she could get much more out.

Oh.

_Oh!_

“I… yes.” He let himself squeeze her hand back, just a little. 

000

Of course, when one was a bounty hunter with mouths to feed, and a race of weird, centuries-old frog wizards to find, peace never lasted long.

It happened when it wasn’t supposed to, like always.

It was a decently populated planet, with pockets of city surrounded by vast, semi-inhospitable mountains. That was where Din had parked the Crest, leaving Tesabi with a commlink and making sure that her blaster was primed and ready. And then off he’d gone to the city for his quarry, telling her to expect him back within two cycles of the planet’s sun.

On the first night, he sent a single signal, just a simple code for ‘all is well’. The gesture warmed Tesabi, who had brought the Foundling’s cradle to her own room. They both slept peacefully, the Child waking only once in the night. He was quickly satisfied with his snack, and soon drifted off again.

The next day went to shit.

With the sun shining and a cool, gentle breeze blowing down from the mountains, Tesabi brought the Child down to run about the clearing that the ship had landed in. He discovered that it was possible to shake large, dark purple insects out of the bushes, and they hopped like grasshoppers as he gave chase.

Their iridescent wings caught and shimmered in the air, and Tesabi watched with a smile, chin resting on the knees she hugged up against her chest. As his chase took him a bit further, she unfolded and made to stand. Something knocked into her arm, pain fast on its heels. Tesabi swore as she swayed, spreading her feet to catch her balance. Her hand hit some kind of thin shaft when she reached for the pain in her bicep.

Looking down, she had little more than a split second to see the rudimentary wooden bolt before she was sprinting towards the child and snatching him up with her good arm. Her wounded arm screamed as she swung up the blaster, firing in the direction the attack had come from.

When another bolt struck her in the thigh, she snarled, the adrenaline letting her push through, racing up the ramp, slamming the button with her hand as she passed. More bolts struck at her feet as she went, one scraping across her cheek to clatter into the belly of the ship.

She didn’t pay much attention to what they looked like, firing at the humanoid shapes trying to advance on the Crest. One, two, and then three went down before the ramp closed. There was a moment of silence where all she could hear was her ragged breathing and the pounding of her pulse in her ears.

With the child in one arm, Tesabi’s blaster clattered to the floor, her shaking hand groping in her pocket for the commlink. “Mando, there were raiders. They’re—” 

A body crashed into her, grabbing for her hands. She heard the Child cry out as he was forced from her arms. Anger helped her surge forwards, driving her opponent into the opposite wall with her shoulder. They grunted and let go, their curse turning into a cry of pain as she jammed her knee up between their legs.

But they grabbed for her again as she tried to move away, hooking their ankle around her leg. They rode her down as she fell, her head cracking sharply against the metal floor and black spots bursting in her vision. Then strong hands were around her throat, bearing down. Distantly, she heard the Child, a sharp wail that might have been pain.

Her hand dropped, yanking her belt knife free and plunging it upwards. She felt the give of soft flesh, warm blood splashing on her hand. It was enough to loosen her attacker’s hold, and she rolled away, kicking out viciously as she grabbed up the Child and her blaster.

Struggling to her feet, she aimed and pulled the trigger. Instead of the red blast, the weapon only let out a burst of sparks, a brief current surging up Tesabi’s arm. Spitting out every curse she knew, Tesabi stumbled up the ramp, laying the child in the cradle and tossing the useless firearm away.

The stranger was on their feet, seemingly unfazed by the blood darkening their clothing and dripping black onto the ramp. They were humanoid, easily a head taller than Din and twice as broad. They had a vibro-blade drawn now, strange, pupilless yellow eyes glaring at Tesabi, their approach more cautious this time.

Fuck. Her head was still spinning from the fall, and she could feel the slow warmth of blood running down the back of her neck. Keeping her own knife up and without looking away, Tesabi closed and shoved the cradle out of the way, hearing it thump against the wall near the cockpit ladder. 

“I’m giving you one fucking chance to put the weapon down,” she spat.

They said something that she didn’t understand, spitting blood at her feet.

Shit. The leg that had taken the bolt was starting to shake, weak and unreliable. She wasn’t going to be able to stay on it much longer. And if this went to the ground again, she wasn’t sure she could win. The raider staggered, spitting another curse and clutching at their wound.

The quick wince was her chance, and she took it.

Tesabi felt the deep bite of the vibroblade as it sunk into her shoulder, another hand trying to shove her back by the throat. But she was smaller just a little bit faster. This time, when she felt her blade sink in, she _twisted_ , her other hand going for her first cut, digging her fingers into the open wound.

The snarling roar in her ear nearly deafened her, and she screamed as the vibroblade was pulled out of her shoulder and dug into her back. She pulled her knife back and plunged it in again. And again and again and _again_.

The raider’s body sagged against her, heavier and heavier before Tesabi stepped to the side and it fell away completely, crashing to the floor. Again, it was quiet. Tesabi reached behind her with her good arm. The vibroblade had come away when its owner had fallen, and she could feel the warmth of blood running down her back. She swayed on her feet, head pounding and vision blurring.

Not good.

She had no idea if Din had even heard her message. And who knew how far away he’d been if he had. 

She was alone.

Fear and pain had tears burning in the corner of her eyes, hot and sharp as they ran down her cheeks. She stumbled over to the medical cabinet, her bloody fingers sliding a few times on the latch before she got it open. One last container of bacta. This had been a supply trip, too.

Since she could see the wound on her shoulder, she went after it first, shuddering at the cool relief when the spray made contact. She couldn’t find the one on her back through her shirt, and fumbled it over her head. She got about half a second’s worth of bacta before spat and bubbled weakly. Empty.

“Fuck.”


	2. Little Miracles (The Comforts of Beskar)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Injury gives people reason to examine feelings. Din isn't used to being a source of comfort for people, but apparently he's pretty good at it.

Chapter Two:

Wadding up her shirt, Tesabi pressed it to her back, swaying on her feet as she shuffled towards one of the control panels. She had to try to get a hold of Din again. She ended up leaning heavily against the wall, the bolt in her thigh finally starting to hamper her movement. 

_‘Don’t take it out,’_ she told herself. _‘You’ll just bleed more. We’re outta bacta.’_

More bloody fingerprints were left behind as she opened the frequency that Din had saved for her. All at once, his voice was crackling through the speakers, so loud and sharp that she jumped.

_“—you copy?!”_

“Din…” She sagged against the wall, head dropping. 

_“What’s happening?!”_ His voice was rough, breathless. Was he running?

“Ship is locked,” she mumbled. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open. “I’m… I got the one that came in. But I think…” Pain rolled through her, and she had to lock her knees to keep from falling to the floor. “I think I’m in trouble…” 

Something tugged at her pant leg, and she had to blink a few times to focus and understand what she was looking at. The Child was at her feet, ears laid flat and his little hands reaching for her. 

How had he gotten out of…?

“I’ll be okay, Kid,” she muttered. “Been hurt a lot worse than this…” She could dimly hear her name crackling through the speaker next to the control panel, but she couldn’t focus, her knees finally buckling and letting her slide to the floor. Her name sounded urgent, but so far away she could have been imagining it.

She was dimly aware of the Child crawling over her legs, of him whining as he stood behind her, the angle of her body exposing the wound on her back. 

Oh. 

She was… she was supposed to be holding her shirt against it. 

Shit. 

She was… bleeding. A lot.

As her mind drifted further and further away, she was dimly aware of a tiny set of claws on the bare skin of her back, and then warmth pouring through her. After that, she slipped into the comforting warmth of darkness and silence.

000

Din left five more bodies in the clearing when he arrived. There hadn’t been any response since Tesabi’s second attempt to speak to him, and his heart was hammering against his ribs. His quarry was knocked out cold, slung over the back of a stolen speeder bike. Checking their restraints once more, Din punched in the ramp override on his wrist, the Razor Crest groaning softly as the hydraulics went into action.

He wasn’t careful with his quarry, yanking them up the ramp. His stomach dropped at the unfamiliar body he found at the end of it, just inside the cargo hold, still as stone and laying in a dark pool of blood.

And there, slumped against the wall, was Tesabi, the child prone beside her. Closing the ramp again, Din left the quarry where it was, rushing over to crouch beside them. The Child was unharmed and breathing easily, unconscious. But his little hands were smudged with the red of Tesabi’s blood, her shirt wadded up on the floor behind her.

There was a new scar on her back, thick and raised under thick smears of drying blood. It had soaked a dark line down the back of her trousers, puddled and smudged on the floor around her. There was blood on the back of her neck, too, only just starting to dry in her hair.

But she was breathing, slow and deep, lost to the world, but _alive_. The sigh of relief rushed out of him, crackling loud in the silent hum of the ship. After stowing the child in his cradle, and tethering it once more to his wrist computer, he lifted Tesabi carefully into his arms.

He bypassed the corner with the medical cabinet and fold-out cot. He was going to have to plot a course off this rock, and didn’t want to leave her alone. If she jolted awake, still thinking she was in a fight, she might fall and hurt herself all over again. His stride took him quickly back to his quarters, laying her out carefully. He had picked up some of their supplies, and had a fresh canister of bacta ready as he pulled out the bolts, tossing them aside with possibly a bit more force than necessary as he tended to the smaller wounds.

000

Tesabi awoke to the quiet hum of hyperspace. The low rush of the engines eased her slowly to wakefulness, and she blinked up into the dark. It took her a moment to recognize that it was not her ceiling she was looking up at, nor the ceiling of the cargo hold.

It was Din’s room.

Had she dreamed about the fight? About getting hurt?

As she pushed slowly into a sitting position, she took stock of herself. A dull ache was settled in her temples, and her body felt as if she’d run a mile loaded down with gear. Looking down, one leg of her trousers was ripped open, exposing her thigh and a faint, circular mark. It was the kind of faint scar that wounds treated with bacta usually left behind.

So, the fight _hadn’t_ been a dream.

Mercifully, her mind didn’t throw her back into panic. The only way she would end up in Din’s room was if he had put her there. That meant that he had made it back, and the humming of the ship meant that they had left the planet behind. They were safe. Just like that morning a month ago, a fresh set of her own clothes was folded for her on a crate, and she smiled to herself as she slowly got to her feet and dressed.

Aside from the lingering ache, she found herself in surprisingly good shape. Din must have picked up fresh medical supplies. She kept her gait to a shuffle as she moved out into the cargo hold. There was no sign of the fight, none of her blood to be seen.

By the time she got to the ladder, the Mandalorian was looking down at her, hovering at the top of the steps. He didn’t say a word, and she wondered if the eyes behind the helmet were searching her face and posture, ready to tell her to go back to bed and keep resting. But then the weight of what had happened crashed into her, and she bowed her head.

“I’m sorry I let someone in,” she muttered, stepping quickly back from the rungs as his boots sounded his descent. He stepped closer than she’d expected, the toes of his boots only a few inches away from hers.

Din looked at the top of her head, taking in the slump of her shoulders, and the way she had wrapped her arms around herself, doing her best to shrink away without moving. He held back the urge to touch her, to reach out and tilt her face up to his. It wasn’t like she would be able to see how ‘not angry’ he was. He had to tell her. Out loud.

“You almost… you almost _died_ …” 

Wait, that wasn’t what he’d meant to say _at all_. He’d wanted to reassure her.

Her head had lifted, eyes searching vainly for some clue on the smooth expanse of beskar. Din only _just_ kept himself from sighing. “He didn’t survive breaching the perimeter,” he tried again. That was all that mattered to him. 

But it… it was _more_ than that. She had put her life on the line for _him_. For _his_ ship, _his_ foundling. Even if that had been understood when she agreed to work with him. The last person so devoted to helping him had ended up dead. And now, she almost had, too. His feelings about the change in their relationship were still too new and complicated for him to really want to examine.

But she… she _mattered_ to him. To the kid, too.

He lifted a hand to her shoulder, squeezing gently. “Thank you,” he finally said, though it seemed a paltry attempt to communicate whatever… whatever he was _trying_ to get across. “I’m… I’m glad you were here.”

Somehow, she felt blindsided by his words, and she looked up, biting her lip as she considered him. While she knew, on an intellectual level, that her being around made it easier for him to leave the Child behind and take higher paying jobs, and that her mechanical know-how was valuable to him, somehow hearing it expressed like that, after what had happened… it felt… she wasn’t sure she had the words.

“Me too,” she finally said, lifting her hand to cover Din’s on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

His helmet shifted, dipping as if he were looking her over again. “And you’re… alright?”

Slowly, they parted, hands falling back to their sides. “I mostly just feel sore and tired,” she admitted. “But you should see the other guy.”

Taken off guard, Din snorted and shook his head. “I’m not sure you get to say that if I find you passed out with multiple stab wounds,” he retorted.

“But I lived, and he didn’t.” 

It was easier to banter than to really think about it, to think about how familiar the sensation of a blade biting into living flesh was, something that she had hoped that she’d forgotten. But the feeling was already there, deep and dark in her mind. Her face visibly fell, and she turned away. 

Din caught her hand. He knew those eyes, the eyes when some dark memory from the past had its claws in you. He’d made his life around other bounty hunters, plenty of veterans numbering among their ranks. He knew what war did to people. After what Tesabi had done for him, he didn’t want her hurting if he could help it.

“Hey…” He drew her carefully into him, curling an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her hand with his. Her head bowed, thumping against his shoulder as her body curled towards his. As much as he wanted to help, he didn’t know what she needed. “Tell me,” he said quietly. “What do you need?”

At the care in his voice, Tesabi grabbed onto him, wrapping her arms around his back and burying her face in the edge of his breastplate. What she _wanted_ was to drink herself into a coma. That was what she had done at first, when the nightmares and constant buzz of anxiety kept her from sleep. But that wasn’t what she _needed_. Not this time.

“Is… is this okay?” she heard her own voice ask, high and ragged. “Just… hold me like this?”

Shifting to hold her with both arms, Din tucked her head under his chin. “Yeah,” he murmured. “This is just fine.” He squeezed gently, and felt her press even closer, a pleasant weight over the armor, like she was trying to hide away in him. 

It wasn’t that he forgot how small she was. But she suddenly felt so fragile, despite her tenacity and skill with a blade. In spite of the dead she’d left behind. A moment later, he realized that it was because she wanted to feel small, to feel safe and protected, even if she was fully capable of protecting herself and then some.

And it… it felt _good_ to hold her, to draw her in and be the source of her comfort. She sighed when he dared to stroke his hand over her back, some of the desperation ebbing from her embrace. And when his hand lifted to cup the back of her head, fingers flexing gently, she all but melted into him.

Somehow, it was almost as overwhelming as her skin against his. Tenderness was not something he was well acquainted with. After he and the others had been sent away to escape the Purge, there had been time only to train for survival. The oldest of them, the Armorer, had been only twenty. Their comfort had been encouraging words and helping the young ones practice until they were strong enough to defend their own lives.

But this felt… it felt safe. Even if she was the one seeking comfort, Din felt a growing feeling of… rightness. As if this was exactly where he was supposed to be in this moment. It settled what remained of the adrenaline in his system, and he let out a slow breath.

Tesabi pushed up on her toes, daring to fit her face into the fabric of his cape and cowl between his helmet and pauldron. It smelled faintly of blaster fire and oil, and she made a quiet sound of contentment. The Mandalorian’s hands settled, one curled around her waist, the other around her back and cupping one of her shoulders.

She could have stayed like that forever. She wanted to. Badly.

“You know, for a guy mostly covered in metal, you give really good hugs.”

The simple, almost child-like comment had Din’s cheeks suddenly flaring, warmth spreading through his limbs to settle in his chest, soft and bright. Thankfully, he was able to muster up a response. “Didn’t you know? It’s the first tenant of the creed.”

She pulled back a little, her hands on his sides and his on her waist as she looked up at him. Her face was lit by a smile now, wide enough that it crinkled up her eyes. It was almost enough to make him forget about the tear trails cutting down her cheeks, and that the sparkle in her eye was just a little too bright.

“What? Being protective and good at comfort?”

Well, the first part wasn’t entirely _wrong_. Smiling to himself, Din took a moment just to look at her, feeling the easy way they were touching each other. Thinking about it made his chest go tight and his stomach flutter, but… it wasn’t bad. Because he couldn’t ever remember anyone smiling at him like Tesabi was, with genuine light in her eyes and not even a trace of fear.

Without thinking, one of Din’s hands came up, brushing a strand of hair back, tucking it carefully behind her ear. His fingertips brushed lightly against her neck and behind her ear, a shiver rolling through her as goosebumps prickled down her arms. They stood too close for him to miss the way her pupils blew wide, lips parting in a little gasp.

He froze there, unmoving, watching her. She was looking right back, waiting. So Din let his fingers brush up her ear again, watching tendon’s shift in her neck and shoulder as she fought to keep still. Her head turned towards his hand as it neared her cheek, and he met her with the touch, smoothing his thumb over her cheekbone. The flush there was the softest pink color, her freckles faded against it.

Then she bit her lip, and Din swallowed. People had tried to seduce him before. Sometimes, he’d let them. But _this_ —Tesabi wasn’t trying _anything_ , she was just swept up in the feeling, without any motive other than chasing what felt good. It was… it was a dangerous way to live. But Din didn’t exactly have room to talk.

Still watching the visor, Tesabi turned her head, cupping Din’s hand with her own and pressing a kiss to the heel of his hand. “Thank you,” she said again.

As heat welled anew and flooded south, Din scowled to himself, but didn’t move to withdraw from her. “You should be resting,” he said.

“How long till we reach Navarro?” she asked, _still_ holding his hand captive against her cheek, speaking almost into his hand. 

“About three cycles,” Din said. He could feel sweat starting along his brow line, a pleasant sort of heat prickling under his skin.

Tesabi took a long, slow breath, closing her eyes as she held it. She opened them again on the exhale, finally lowering his hand but still holding it with hers. “I’ll rest for one. But when I get up, I’m…” Sweet, suffering Stars her heart was racing again, energy crackling under her skin even though she felt ready to sleep for a week. “I might ask you to help me… not think. Again.” 

She squeezed his hand, and Din was comforted by the familiar strength of her grip. “There are a lot of ways to do that,” he said, just to see the practical _burst_ of color across her face, the way she fought not to squirm where she stood, her lip going pale as she bit down hard.

“Just… hold on to that thought,” Tesabi finally said. 

She didn’t want to lose the moment, to just dive into the comfort he seemed so ready to give. But she was dead on her feet, sleep already calling to her again, heavy as lead in her limbs. When she felt Din’s hand on her shoulder again, she expected him to guide her to the tiny crew area where she had claimed a bunk.

Instead, she was guided back to his bed. There was no objection as she stripped down to her overlarge shirt and underwear, crawling back into the cot with a contented grumble. She was half asleep almost as soon as she lay down.

Din watched her for a few moments as he leaned in the door way. The tension slowly melted out of her limbs, relaxing almost one by one until she was sagging into his bed, asleep. She sprawled out on her stomach, head turned to the side. The wide collar of her loose shirt allowed him a glimpse of her tattoos again, and he felt a bit foolish that he didn’t remember them in much detail. She had them on her arms, and those were usually covered by her coverall sleeves or gloves.

And when he’d actually had the opportunity to look, he been too overwrought to focus on any of the finger details. He took a moment now. The flowering vines that were visible crawling up the back of her neck weren’t any plant he recognized, but their linework was clean, the color turning something simple into a thing of beauty.

He knew plenty of veterans and hunters that added tattoos for their platoon or squad, or for trophies they’d taken. Din could probably plug some of her tattoos into his ship’s database and learn a great deal about her. The sudden well of curiosity made him realize just how little she knew about him. 

She knew he was a Mandalorian, and that he was protecting a strange magic frog child from a leftover—but dangerous—Imperial faction. But she didn’t know about how he had turned the Child in to those same people, people that had wanted to do Maker-knew-what if it weren’t for that over-eager doctor. And when he’d gone back to rescue the Child, he had effectively doomed his whole tribe. He didn’t even know how many of them were still alive.

Before he could think about the pile of discarded armor in the covert, Din turned away, dimming the lights but leaving the door open. The child was still asleep in his bassinet when Din returned to the cockpit. But he stirred softly when Din stroked his finger over the little hand, watching the claws flex in slumber.

 _Ad’ika_. 

Din remembered that word. It was what they had called him for the first few weeks, when he was still too shell-shocked to speak. It meant ‘child’; son or daughter. And for all that his new family had been made up of a patchwork group of warriors, they _had_ treated him like family, each of them watching over and teaching him as best they could.

 _‘Names are important,’_ Din remembered Tesabi saying, the first time she had met the foundling. _‘Take your time finding the right one.’_

Names were important in many cultures, not just for Mandalorians. If he was to be the Child’s father, it was his responsibility to give him a name. It wasn’t fair to the kid, to just be ‘Child’ or ‘Foundling’.

Settling into the pilot seat, Din hummed softly to himself, drifting into thought as he sat back to wait.


	3. Heavenly Bodies (Let Me See You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two people endeavor to forget the rest of the world together.

Chapter Three:

Upon waking, Tesabi’s first thought was to wonder what sort of genius had invented bacta spray? 

She had been beat to hell and back, and had gotten a bit closer to death’s door than she was strictly comfortable with. But now, there was only the pleasant, slowly fading grogginess of sleep. As she stretched, she groaned softly, feeling the loose, easy movement of her muscles and joints. Sometimes, bacta almost felt like cheating.

After her parents had been killed, Tesabi had spent her early teens on the street, learning that someone as small as her had to learn to fight quick and dirty to avoid becoming another statistic crumpled in a black alley with the trash. She was used to her battles being hard won, with lots of reminders lingering after the fact.

But this… this was good. She didn’t have to revel in her pain, to wallow in it. There was a lot more to her world now. An image of the Child floated in her mind, and she smiled, as she dressed again, turning back to make Din’s bed as neatly as she could. The little bean was too cute. It made sense though, if his species was a baby for over fifty years, they would have to be cuter than anything for their parents not to get tired of changing diapers for decades.

At least _this_ one had learned how to tell them when he had to potty.

Nitty-gritty details aside, Tesabi somehow felt content as she looked around the cramped, minimalistic deck of the Razor Crest. Purely functional, without even a hint of luxury. A lot like the man that owned it. But there were a few places where softness was starting to show. 

The child’s nook had a proper sleeping mat now, his toys put away neatly in a box in front of the nook. There was a curtain affording privacy for the utilitarian vac-tube, too. There was a tall, polished metal tool chest with all her things in it, and she smiled at the memory of her giddiness when she had first brought it back to the ship. Din had shaken his head and laughed softly, but the his tone of voice had been just a little lighter for the rest of the day…

Stars, she was in trouble.

She was smitten. She had fallen for this whole, strange little family. This family with powerful enemies and, occasionally, the most rotten luck in all of creation. It wasn’t like she didn’t know what belonging felt like. Her squad during the Rebellion had been her family for years, and she still loved them all dearly. And she had good memories of her adoptive parents before that.

But this… this was different. This wasn’t just a place where she knew she was safe, where she could come back to. Existing here was effortless, as if she’d been meant to be here from the beginning. It was hard not to laugh at herself as she started up the ladder. She had been covered in blood not so long ago, fighting for a little green kid she knew nothing about.

And she wouldn’t change a thing.

Her smile faltered slightly when she saw that the Child was still sleeping. Din’s back was to her, head turned towards one of the console readouts. “Are you sure he’s okay?” she asked.

There was worry in her voice. Din supposed it wouldn’t hurt anything to tell her about what else the Foundling could do. But the silence stretched for several more moments before he finally spoke. “You know those… things that he can do? The…?”

“The magic stuff and the weird mind-fucky telepathy crap?” she offered.

Din snorted, an audible sound of amusement. “Yes. That. It tires him out, like if you or I were running for miles.” He could feel her watching him, still hovering over the cradle. “He… he can heal people, too, sometimes. Karga was poisoned on Navarro, and the Child…” It was still a bit mind-boggling to think about. “The wound closed over and it was like the venom evaporated. When we first met, he lifted an adult mudhorn into the air to help me.”

Tesabi was staring, open-mouthed at the back of Din’s head. “Wait… so this little booger is a _Jedi_?!”

Din was suddenly siting bolt-upright in his chair, head turned and staring over his shoulder. He knew about the conflict between the Jedi and Mandalorians. But it was so secondary in his mind compared to the Great Purge, when the Empire had massacred his home and family a _second_ time. And besides, the Empire had gone to great lengths to eliminate the Jedi Order. Only after the Empire’s fall, had rumors of a new Jedi Knight started to surface. But this…

“A Jedi… is someone who is taught. Trained.” Even he could tell that his voice sounded hollow and stiff. “He’s…”

“I owe my life to a little frog-bean Jedi,” Tesabi murmured, crouching over the hovering bassinet and looking down at its occupant with awe.

Her words were too much, shattering the sudden tension that Din had felt between his shoulders. “He really needs a name.”

The way his helmet was tilted, Tesabi could tell he was watching the sleeping child. “Can I ask you a question about Mandalorians and foundlings?” she finally said.

Din lifted his head. “Go ahead.”

It took her a moment to find the words. “Is… Does the kid just get put into an existing family? Or are the foundlings all raised and taught in a group?”

Din had been so young when they had been sent away, just old enough to have said the words and put on the helmet. The oldest of their group had been the Armorer, only twenty and woefully underprepared for the role of _Alor_ ; tribe leader. The adults had told them to run, to never _ever_ take off their helmets. And that they would find them when it was safe. But they never did.

“It varies,” he finally said. “It depends on who finds them. I was raised with kids around my age. They encouraged me to keep my own name.”

For a moment, she looked between him and the child. “You don’t want to give him a name if he already has one, but can’t tell us,” she guessed, reminding Din of just how sharp her mind could be sometimes. The warmth of her expression caused a strange, soft feeling in his chest.

“Something like that.” Stars, this smiling thing was getting out of hand. All it took was one little quip from her or a burble from the child and he was smiling as openly as one could behind a helmet. He realized that her expression had shifted, smile softening as he postured changed, turning more towards him.

And he hadn’t forgotten. The way she’d looked at him, helmet and all, and had bitten her lip, mind drifting. He hadn’t forgotten how good it had felt to have her lean into him, to pull him close to her, a comforting weight against the beskar that reminded him that he _was_ still human underneath it.

There was too much to look at there, too much clutter. But he didn’t want to waste time trying to puzzle it out. He wanted to take care of her. It was that simple. 

Tesabi watched him lift his arm, taping a couple of buttons on his wrist computer. She jumped slightly as the Child’s bassinet closed with a soft hiss and then floated down the ladder. Tesabi quickly looked back to him. Her heart leaped into her throat. He was still sitting in his chair, one hand held out in her direction.

He might has well have been a magnet, for all that she could resist the pull of him. The way he took her hand with his—careful, gentle—both put her at ease and made her breath quicken. She wished she could… well… Not _see_ him, but at least get _some_ indication of what he was thinking… Though, given the context…

 _This_ was easier. Din could follow the steps of this dance with confidence.

“Still thinking too much?” he murmured, drawing her to stand between his spread knees as he looked up at her.

“Not really, but…” Her cheeks were prickling with heat, chest gone tight and fuzzy, the same as before. “I wouldn’t mind thinking a little less.” When a soft sound—a laugh, she was sure—filtered through the helmet’s vocoder, Tesabi found herself wondering what Din’s smile looked like. She quickly squashed the thought, stepping back as the Mandalorian unfolded to his full height.

Again, he took in the way her lips parted, eyes widening slightly. Heat was pushing out through him, rolling along his spine and tightening in his limbs. Tesabi felt, more than heard, herself made a quiet noise as his hands settled on her hips. The weight of them was anchoring, chasing away some of her trepidation. When his thumbs dipped beneath the hem of her shirt, the cool touch of his gloves on her bare skin almost made her jump.

Both hands slipped beneath her shirt, going around her waist, letting his fingers sink against her, squeezing as he brought her flush to the solid plane of his chest. The cool touch of metal made her breath hitch audibly, and a quiet chuckle rumbled above her.

Then he was crowding her backwards, pushing her up against the only smooth patch of wall available. He crowded in around her, invading her space and surrounding her with his presence. In response, Tesabi arched away from the wall, not trying to push away, but pressing harder against him. 

Drawn to the shrouded crook of his neck, she drew up on her toes and breathed him in again. It made her think of her shop; smelling of ozone, oil, and heated metal. That was nothing but happy memories, with the subtle musk of Din underneath it all. She knew he bathed, the ‘fresher and sonic shower saw regular use. But he had been hunting recently, still smelling faintly of the outdoors.

When she hummed into his neck, Din felt himself shiver, just at the idea of her mouth being in proximity to the sensitive, fragile skin. Then he felt her move, and the unmistakable motion of a kiss. To offset how warm he suddenly felt, he pushed her back down, up against the wall.

He leveled his visor with her eyes as his hands lowered to her belt, undoing it slowly. He was watching each little shift and micro-expression on her face, and found only flushed cheeks, quickened breath and wide, eager eyes. Just a little push, and her trousers dropped to pool around her ankles. Din slowly knelt, helping her out of her boots and setting her trousers aside with them. 

Tesabi didn’t know how it worked, how he could seem so empty and impassive to her one moment, and then she could _feel_ the heat and want in his gaze the next. When Din didn’t stand, she made a questioning sound, reaching out and touching the concave part of his helmet over his cheek. He smirked to himself, briefly distracted by the way he full bottom lip was caught between her teeth. But he was good at self-control. This time around anyways.

“I want to look at you,” he said honestly, cupping the sides of her calves. 

It was easy to forget how strong she was, shrouded in practical, loose-fitting clothing. The subtle flex of muscle as she worked was lost on him, and he would admit to wishing that he had his gloves off to touch her. But she was looking down at him with such wide eyes, and she looked so _soft_ in just her shirt. Practically spun glass in comparison to his gloves and armor. 

Tesabi shivered as his hands slid further up, his thumbs curling around to meet on the inside of her knees at the base of her thighs. He stopped there, head tilting as his left hand traced a circular pattern inked into the skin there. It took him a moment, but he realized that it was a bullseye over a blaster burn scar. Smiling silently to himself, he let himself linger there for a moment before sliding further up, thumbs still curled towards her inner thighs.

The urge to spread her legs for him was at the forefront of Tesabi’s mind, hyper aware of the smooth texture of his gloved fingertips on the sensitive skin of her thighs. He wasn’t doing anything untoward, barely touching a few inches past her knees. But he was looking up at her again, still on his knees and face upturned. 

Something in that made her feel impossibly small, the focus of his attention almost overwhelming. But he had said that he’d wanted to look at her. They _had_ been in an awful rush last time. So while his hands began a gentle, massaging climb, Tesabi’s feet stepped apart, making her shirt ride up just a bit on her thighs. The apex of them was only _just_ in shadow, a suggestion of what she wanted.

And what _he_ wanted too, if the sudden tightening of his grip was any indication. One hand stayed anchored there, fingers curled around just above the back of her knee. His other hand pushed up, inch by inch and the anticipation was almost enough to make Tesabi curse. She could feel the heat and slickness of herself, her toes curling against the cold metal floor.

He hooked his thumb under the hem of her shirt, the rest of his fingers curling into a fist as he pushed it up, up, and out of the way. Her underwear was simple, but all Din could look at was the spot darkening the light fabric, the soft swell of her thighs only centimeters from touching beneath it. 

His hand squeezed at her thigh, digging in. Tesabi shivered, her head dropping back with a thump against the wall. She was waiting for him to speak, to ask her to look at him like he had the first time. Instead, his free hand was drawing patterns on her inner thighs, stroking so feather light that he was barely touching her at all. Her eyes opened of her own accord, looking back down.

“Do you like this?” he asked, and _oh fuck_ his _voice_. 

It was lower than usual, more precise. It was like the tone she’d heard him use with his quarries on occasion. It was almost a little frightening. Tesabi decided that she really, _really_ liked it. She nodded eagerly, then went still as he brushed against the damp spot between her legs with his knuckle. It lit her up like an electric current, tiny little shivers rolling through her lower body, muscles clenching reflexively. Her hips rocked forward, tracing the touch.

He indulged her for a moment, replacing his knuckle with his thumb, pressing in firm, slow circles. “Is this what happened before?” he asked, still looking up at her. Her lip was getting flushed and swollen with all her biting. “I barely touch you and you get like this?” He dipped the tip of his finger only _just_ inside her, sipping in so easily.

Her breathing stuttered into a groan, killing whatever answer that she might have given. So, he curled one finger around the fabric, pulling it aside and stroking into her folds with his other hand, gloves and all. The sound Tesabi heard herself make was somewhere between a strangled curse and the most pitiful whine. 

The touch of his room temperature gloves on her flushed, heated folds was unexpected, the smooth texture of his fingertips sliding easily along her, demonstrating exactly how wet she was for him.

“Kriff.” 

His responding chuckle at that had been amused, she was sure, but the huskiness of his voice and the crackle of the vocoder just made it sound dangerous. 

“Even with my gloves, I can feel how wet you are,” he murmured, pulling away from her to use both hands as he eased her underwear down her hips, helping her steady herself to remove them. She spread her legs wider for him when she was standing again, and Din squeezed her thighs encouragingly.

But he paused, appreciating the way her shirt and slipped down again, only _just_ hiding her sex from view. His fingers had smeared the shine of her slick onto her inner thighs, the skin flushed a delicate pink. Suddenly, down on his knees as he was, all Din could think of was leaning forward and putting his mouth on her, tasting the slick and feeling her strong legs quiver around his head.

“Kriff,” Tesabi muttered again, “how the hell can I _feel_ you looking at me?” 

She had never felt so on display, somehow restrained by his presence alone. Maybe it was the fact that he always seemed to look at things with intense and careful consideration, and knowing that such focused attention was directed at _her_ … She shivered again, the roll going through her whole body. Din was a man of singular focus, and to be the sole target of that focus was doing things to her head.

Instead of responding like a normal person, he just pressed two fingers into her, her whole body going tight and one hand thumping flat against the wall behind her. She’d been wet, yes, but the quick, deep stretch had turned her slowly building excitement into something bright and sharp in the forefront of her mind. And he… stars, why was knowing that he was still wearing his gloves turning her on?

Looking down at him didn’t help. She could see as much as feel how hard he was gripping her thigh, his fingers digging in against fat and muscle, splayed wide. The hold was almost possessive, and that was a whole other reason to shiver and whimper as he curled his fingers inside her. 

He hummed, seemingly in approval, and Tesabi wondered how he could be in such a vulnerable position and still exert complete control of the situation. She wasn’t able to hold onto the thought long. He had started a rhythm with his fingers, his thumb joining at her clit.

There was more than enough of her own slick for Din to draw it up and over the little nub. Even as overwhelmed as he’d been the first time, he still remembered what she’d liked, rubbing up and down over her, not digging in with pressure, but catching against her each time.

 _‘Fuck,’_ Tesabi thought. They were the same gloves he wore on a job. The same ones he wore when he fought, when he was put his own strength and skill against dangerous quarries, the same armor he wore when…

They were both caught off guard when she came, crying out in surprise and pleasure, knees locked and legs trembling. It went through her hard and fast, rushing her over the peak and yanking her back down, clenching repeatedly on Din’s fingers.

“That… that was…” Her cheeks were heated with more than just excitement now. “Y-your gloves… I didn’t…” Fuck. What was she supposed to say?

Silently, Din withdrew his hand, watching her slick stretch between his fingers, his mouth watering. Lifting his head again, he made sure she was focusing on him as he pushed his fingers under the edge of his helmet.

Eyes wide, all her embarrassment flew out the proverbial window as she watched the tips of the Mandalorian’s slick-coated fingers vanish behind the implacable façade of his helmet, his vocoder crackling with a groan. He was tasting her. Maker, _fuck_.

Then he was standing, slow and lithe and as deadly as any jungle cat. He stepped back into her space, hands settling on her hips, and she was sure that he could feel how much warmer she was through her shirt. She felt as if she had no choice but to keep looking at him, head tilted back now.

“You like the armor… don’t you?” 

It came out as a rumble, his voice so thick and heated that it made her body clench. He wasn’t… she didn’t want him to think that was the only reason she wanted this, the only reason she had enjoyed it before. “It’s not _just_ the—” she began.

“I don’t… I don’t mind. At all.” Din was all but leaning his full weight on her, his breastplate and the cuisses on his thighs digging into the softness of her. He curled his fingers into her hips, digging in hard enough to leave bruises as he rocked forward into her. He wanted her. Now. But he let go, stepping back just to watch her sag and struggle to straighten up again. “Shirt. Off.”

The loose garment was easy enough to peel over her head, dropped to the floor and instantly forgotten. The moment it left her hands he was stepping in close again, this time fitting one cool, armored thigh between hers. The shock of cold metal made her tense and hiss out a curse through her teeth. But his gloved hand returning to her side was a perfect counterpoint. The material had warmed, smooth and supple with years of use.

When her hips rocked forward, Din felt a flare of arousal, thinking of her rubbing up against him like this. Against cold, unyielding beskar, while she was nothing but soft, slick heat. He wanted to lose himself in her again. But he wasn’t done playing with her just yet. He was betting on the smooth, cool surface to not being quite enough for her to get off again, but still enough to tease and frustrate her.

Somehow, that thought had never been more appealing.

Watching her face carefully, he gathered her hands together at the wrists with one of his, lifting and pressing them into the wall above her head. At the questioning tilt of his head, Tesabi nodded. That was _more_ than fine. Up on her toes, every little motion rubbed her into his thigh, cool and smooth and slicked with her own fluids; _that_ was bordering on torture.

Then his free hand was on her side again, following up her waist to the expanding curve of her ribs. Her breath quickened under the firm, gentle touch. When his thumb skirted the underside of her breast, she bit her lip against an impatient whine, but it did little to muffle the sound.

“You had your turn,” he chided, his voice deceptively gentle. “Now be _good_ for me.” He _felt_ her shiver against him, her whole body caught up in it as she nodded. His little huff of noise sounded like a laugh curled around a smirk. 

Tesabi honestly wouldn’t have guessed that someone as isolated as the Mandalorian would be able to play what was essentially the part of a dominant so well. But this was different, and so much better. This wasn’t a role someone was playing with her, this was _him_. His touch was careful and measured, but even his self-control couldn’t hide the eagerness behind it. Was he enjoying the look of her bare skin against his gloves, like she had? Maker she hoped so.

His thumb circled her nipple a few times, plucking against it. She wasn’t taken _too_ off guard when he pinched, but her breath still stuttered out into a high noise, her thighs squeezing around his. He let go just long enough to soothe with a gentle brush of his palm before he pinched again, harder. The pain twisted through her, sharp and bright and the perfect counterpoint to the slow, heated crawl of her pleasure.

He seemed to enjoy what he was doing, moving lazy and slow. His fingers caught on old scars, found the soft, sensitive spots on her sides and neck. Every now and then, he would shift, the unyielding armor of his thigh grinding up into her. As if she need help staying interested… She could already feel the ache of new bruises on her skin where he had dug his fingers, her nipples stinging and slightly swollen.

Just when she was thinking about moving her own leg to grind against _him_ , Din released her hands, cupping her shoulders and following her arms as she lowered them. He lifted one, examining the almost lacy design on her inner forearm. It was done in more delicate lines, weaving dripping flowers and curving lines together in a symmetrical sort of tangle. It was pretty. Further up, a wide black line banded just below her bicep, with seven vertical lines cut through it. The lines looked like an afterthought, some more faded than the others, as if added over time.

Tesabi’s quick intake of breath was different, and his head turned back to her. He didn’t say a word, though. Maker knew he had enough secrets; he wasn’t going to go probing at hers. There was a crest on her opposite shoulder, the minimalistic shape of a shield with a wicked, fanged grin in the center. He knew that one, or at least something very much like it. Infantry, probably.

Next, he stroked across her collar bone, following the line of her throat up to her jaw. He thought about it covered in marks, sucked dark and red onto her skin. For a moment he dug his fingers in, wondering if she would let him mark her that way. With the way her eyes were leveled at him, dark and somehow sure, she probably would…

Din let himself groan softly, leaning into her and bowing his head to her shoulder. There were still layers and layers between them. _His_ layers; beskar, leather, canvas, and cotton. Even so, his body was lit up like a livewire, chest heaving and the fans in his helmet working overtime. 

But the _contrast_ of the two of them; soft and unyielding, rough and silky soft. Somehow horribly matched and yet fitting perfectly. It was just as heady as the first time, and if her answering expression was anything to go by, Tesabi was riding the same strange high.

His hand moved down again, pressing into the softness of her tummy before tracing the line of her hipbone lower. The pressure of his thigh eased, and she hummed as his fingers returned to her, another groan rumbling near her ear. Still hot and swollen to the touch, she rocked her hips, her arms going around his shoulders.

The impatience that Din had been holding back, determined to draw it all out, was getting harder to ignore. With her arms around him, he used one hand to lift one of her legs off the ground, hooking it over his hip. His other hand moved between them, and Tesabi arched as he pressed his fingers into her again. 

The dull pressure of her fingers digging into the back of his neck, and the way her breath sounded heavy and desperate next to him, made Din ache. When her squirming ground her thigh against his cock, he nearly _growled_ , the hand holding up her thigh digging in again. Her body tensed at the sudden press of pain, while her cunt clenched wetly on his fingers.

As a third finger pushed in, Tesabi’s hands curled into fists around the back of his cape. She cursed into his shoulder and the cowl keeping his neck from her, biting at it as she tried to rock down on his hand.

Din could _feel_ the heat of her breath through the layers, the frustration clear in her tone even if the words were unintelligible. He curled and half twisted his hand, feeling the tug of her teeth as her back bowed. Their eyes met, and she was breathless, flushed and disheveled with her hair hanging into her face.

Wordlessly, Din undid the twist of his cloak and untucked it from his breastplate. When he reached for his cowl, his own breath rasping through his helmet, Tesabi squeaked, catching his hand. “Is—?” He yanked the cowl open, peeling it out from under the edge of his helmet and dropping it.

Then he was hiking her leg back up, three fingers sinking in again so quickly that her groan sounded punched out and breathless. When he crowded into her again, there was nowhere to put her head but against his shoulder, rising up on her toes and latching onto that sliver of brown skin. 

Din wasn’t sure what had possessed him. The neck had always been a weak spot, something vital you protected from others at all cost. But just the thought of Tesabi’s lips on his skin had been enough to override that instinct. And as she sucked and bit at his skin, he couldn’t decide if it had been a terrible or wonderful idea. It was intense enough that it overrode everything else. His hand stopped, body going rigid and curling towards her. Her teeth scraped and pinched gently, and his groan was punched out and weak

Tesabi knew that her own neck and shoulder were extremely sensitive. What would it feel like to be touched there if she had spent a lifetime walled away from everything? A strangled sound crackled through the speakers, broken and hungry all at once. It didn’t matter that his hand had gone still. She could feel the thunder of his pulse under her lips, beautiful and alive.

She only stopped when she realized she was sure to be leaving a mark, Din’s body lurching after her when she pulled away. There was half a moment of ragged breathing, and then she was being lifted completely off the floor, both her legs wound around his waist. Leaning into her, Tesabi felt his hands moving beneath her, the sound of a buckle and rustling fabric.

Before she could form her surge of emotions into a coherent thought, he shoved down on her hips as he bucked his own up into her, her world narrowing to that single moment of sensation, as if the world had fallen out from under her and then been put back together an instant later. 

He sagged against her, practically nuzzling his helmet into her bare shoulder, stroking her thighs and up over waist and ribs. In her turn, Tesabi nuzzled into the sweat damp skin of his neck with the tip of her nose. The smell of his skin—salt, soap, and musk—was now tangled up with the leather and metal scent of his armor, and Tesabi wanted to _drown_ in it.

His first thrust was slow, holding her in place as he rocked back. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and she made a drawn-out sound of relief. He pushed back in just as slow, savoring every slick inch until his thighs were flush against her.

“Stars, Din.” His hips bucked a little sharper at the sound of her saying his name. Her voice was almost distant, like she was barely aware of speaking, too lost in sensation to really be aware of anything else. He could feel her clinging to him, her breathing hard and ragged against his neck.

Anchoring his hands on her ass, he started to move her with him, drawing her down to him with each forward thrust. There was no more ship, no more hum of engines and control panels. There was just the tangle of his body around hers, the warmth of his skin on her cheek. 

That little patch of human skin… It wasn’t lost on her that a man who had spent most of his life just surviving wouldn’t normally bare his throat. Not for anything. Most of the rest of him was still covered and hidden away by his armor, the uniform of the Mandalorian. The armor was hard and unyielding, though the cool metal had warmed where their bodies touched. 

It was a slower pace than before, less desperate and more focused. It was getting difficult to focus on anything else, the slow, wet slide of him making her toes curl. Despite his cautious pace, the stretch still edged it with a sharper kind of heat, the kind that made her stomach twist in the most delightful way.

Pressure on her sternum made her lean back against the wall again, shivering at the renewed touch of cooler metal. They still weren’t very far apart, but he was looking at her now, watching himself push into her over and over.

The slow pace drew out the little pulse of pleasure that came with each thrust, and she let out a long, shuddering breath. When she looked down herself, her stomach swooped, body clenching. “Fuck, _Din_ …”

His next thrust snapped into her, body surging forwards. Each thrust forward pushed a cry from her, her fingers cupping the back of his neck. She whimpered when he moved finally slowed, keeping her against the wall with his weight as he unwrapped her legs from his waist.

Folding them nearly up to her chest, he put his arms under and around them, holding her open as he grabbed handfuls of her ass and yanked her down onto another thrust. The sound Tesabi heard herself make was far from attractive, strangled and sharp. The new angle let him push deeper, her body practically folded in half. She was completely dependent on his strength to hold her up now, what little control she’d had happily surrendered.

Din already knew that he would be leaving bruises behind. The pressure sensors in his gloves could also measure the force he exerted, and knew to the decimal what was needed to leave marks on human skin. He was sure he’d left them first time, too. And he _liked_ the idea, liked the idea of his touch lingering on her skin, of her being able to feel him even apart. 

It was possessive. Even if they were hidden by her clothing, something in him _wanted_ them seen.

Tesabi couldn’t move. The new angle pinned her arms behind her own legs, and all she could do was take what he gave her. There was a freedom in that, in surrendering all the power over to someone else, letting them make all the decisions. It meant that she didn’t have to think about anything else.

There was just the press of Din against her, coiled strength under battle-scarred armor. Powerful, deft hands and the weight of him, curled towards her, his helmet on her shoulder, scraping the wall. She wanted to hold him again, to cup the back of his head and press him close enough to drown in. 

Instead, she latched onto his neck, digging her teeth in, her hands curling around his forearms, digging under the metal of his bracers in the only place she could reach. His whole body shuddered against her, and then he was pulling back, lowering her onto shaking legs. She opened her mouth to protest, and then closed it as his gloves dropped to the floor, his hand quickly lifting to his wrist computer.

What was he…? Oh.

She felt her eyes widen, and had to lean back heavily against the wall, too swept away by what was happening to properly react. Warmth that had _nothing_ to do with arousal rolled through her as he carefully removed and set aside his breastplate, his warm brown hands lifting to quickly undo the clasps of his shirt. Tesabi thought that her legs might actually give out as he undid first one, and then the second layer, the garments falling open to the sides.

Before she even had a chance to take in the scarred expanse of his chest, he was stepping in again. She put her hand up between them, pressing at his chest even as the returning grip to her waist made her already weak knees tremble. He didn’t make a sound, just stopped. Waiting.

“If I can,” she whispered, skin tingling and warm where it brushed up against his, “I’d like to see you, too…” She would survive if he didn’t want her to, if he was too worked up and just wanted to press against and into her again. She would be fine, but she would regret if she didn’t ask.

Din almost wished she hadn’t. It meant he had to _think_ about it, and he didn’t _want_ to. He didn’t want to think about how he was making himself vulnerable, he just wanted to feel her again, the impossible softness of her pressed to him, open, inviting, and delicate in a way that he would never be.

Then Tesabi moved her hand, trailing just her fingertips down over his ribs. It was a feather-light touch, her attempt not to overwhelm him. But she still felt him react, heard his quick intake of breath. His hands squeezed at her waist, as if seeking an anchor rather than trying to take back control. The tension that she had seen rising in his shoulders melted away, and she flattened her palm to him.

Touching with both hands now, his skin felt almost feverish, chest expanding with deep breaths that she was sure he was trying to manage, to calm. He didn’t object when she tilted her head down, taking in the contrast of her pale hands on him. He looked almost sun kissed, even though she knew his skin must almost never see the sun.

There were few scars on of his chest, all dug in on the sides of his chest and stomach, blades that had scored a lucky hit at the edge of his beskar. He wasn’t a bulky man, lithe and whipcord strong. His breath hitched when one hand ventured back up to skim a fingertip over his nipple, and she felt his head bow into her again.

Tesabi moved her hand. “Can I kiss you here?” she asked, tapping a finger on his sternum. A silent nod. Her hand moved lower as she dipped her head to kiss his breastbone. “Here?” She touched a few inches above his navel. He nodded again, his hands skimming her arms as her knees bent, her lips brushing over his skin to plant another kiss where her fingers had been.

“Tesabi…”

The sound of her name in that deep, hungry bass… Heat throbbed between her legs, and she shivered. “What about here?” she said, her racing heart making her feel breathless. She trailed a finger through the soft trail of dark hair past his navel, both hands skimming him to settle on his hips. “Can I please kiss you here?” His cock was shining with her slick, flushed and eager. 

His hands were on her shoulders now, grip tightening. He wanted her close again, to know what it felt like to have her naked chest pressed to his. But then she looked up at him, sinking finally to her knees. Something in him lurched, twisted tight and desperate.

What could have possibly done to deserve this?

“Please, Din?”

He was done for. The hunger was clear as day across her face. And it was for _him_. He was too far gone to question it. His hand lifted, warm and gentle as it slid across her cheek and into her rumpled hair. Some dim and distant part of his mind was aware that she had used the fresher recently, her hair glossy, soft, and as fine as spider-silk. 

Tesabi hummed at the feel of his fingers carding gently through her hair, pushing it out of her eyes as he watched her silently. Still watching him, she leaned forward, one hand leaving his hip to steady the base of his cock. She felt his fingers flinch against her scalp, fighting the reflex to clench into a fist around her hair.

A little curl of pride unfolded in her chest, and she stared into his visor for a moment longer before she looked down. Allowing herself a moment to take him in, she curled her fingers around him, squeezing gently as she stroked upward in a slow pull. She saw a muscle in his thigh twitch, and heard a ragged exhale above her, but his self-control was iron-clad.

It had been a while since she had done this, but it felt as natural as anything, and with a smirk, she lifted her head again, eyes crinkling with her grin. “You got to taste me,” she said, leaning closer, her words puffing warm against him and his cock twitching in her hand. “I think it’s only fair that I get to taste _you_.”

Some part of her wanted to reassure him, to make sure he knew that she was doing this because she _wanted_ to. It didn’t matter to her that he couldn’t return the favor, Tesabi just wanted to touch him. Taste him. Wanted to feel him shake apart the way she had for him. In answer, his hand left her hair to stroke her cheek, tilting her head up just enough to brush his thumb against her bottom lip, lingering when she pressed a kiss to the pad.

But she was getting tired of teasing, and muffled a self-satisfied grin at the sound the Mandalorian made above her when she licked a slow, solid stripe from root to tip. Maybe some other time, she’d go slow, ask him not to touch her and to just lay back and _feel_. Some other time.

Later, Din would wonder why he was so surprised, especially with how hungry and hopefully eager she’d looked when she knelt before him. But when she sucked the head of him into her mouth, tongue twisting in an obscene imitation of a kiss, his whole body froze up, going tight as he clung to his restraint, muscle bunching with the urge to rock into the slick heat.

As she took more of him into her mouth, Tesabi found herself actually wondering if she wanted him to fuck her again before this was over. Or did she want him to finish down her throat, the rest of him shaking under her hands? Her cunt clenched a little at the thought, fingers curling and scraping her nails against his hip.

With the way his hand was digging into her shoulder, he might be struggling with the same decision. Before he could make up his mind, she pulled her hand away from him, holding him by the hips as she sunk down. Her eyes watered reflexively as he hit the back of her throat, but she took a deep breath and kept going.

For a moment, Din stopped breathing. There was no way she was completely human. Some celestial siren made flesh and sent to torment him. There was no other explanation. 

When his hand tightened in her hair, Tesabi hummed, feeling his hips twitch with that same restraint. She appreciated the effort, even if it wasn’t exactly necessary. For just a moment, she let herself enjoy the weight of him on her tongue, the subtle ache in her jaw. Then she pressed her tongue up under him and _swallowed_ around him.

Din’s mouth fell open, a gutted, punched out sound leaving him as he tipped forward, bracing his forearm against the wall. “Stars, Tesabi—fuck, you…” He trailed off into a shuddering strain of curses in a language she didn’t know.

She pulled back, coming off of with a pop that made him shudder. His eyes had fluttered shut, he realized, when they snapped open at the feel of her hand curling around the base of him. She was watching him again, her blush darkened and her lips shining.

“I really… I _really_ like your voice,” she said, breathless and just a little rough. He didn’t _have_ to talk if he didn’t want, but she didn’t want him trying to be quiet, to stifle any of his reactions to her. He was so sensitive, each response raw and new and just a little overwhelmed. Being able to get such a normally quiet man to make such _beautiful_ sounds was doing a lot more for her than she’d expected.

Still braced against the wall, he cupped her cheek, once more tracing a finger over her lips. “Do you want me to tell you how good you are?” he asked, sounding as if he were holding onto his control by a thread. “Or do you want me to be mean?” His hand shifted, sliding into the longer part of her hair and curling his hand into a fist, forcing her head to tilt back.

A shiver rolled through her, powerful enough that her whole body jerked slightly. She hadn’t expected him to be… was ‘experienced’ the word? Maybe. Not everyone liked to play games with sex and intimacy. And to be honest, she liked both. The thought of both praise and crude, hungry words directed at her in that beautiful voice of his made her swallow, her entire lower body clenching.

She licked her lips, eyes briefly closing as she took a breath. “The point of this was _not_ to think. Just…” She leaned back in, unable to take the weight and heat of his gaze, imagined or not. He let her, but kept his hand tight in her hair. “Whatever you want, I just… I just want to hear you.”

Too flustered to continue, she too him into her mouth again, twisting her hand around the rest as she spun her tongue around the head, her other hand curling tight on his hip.

“Fuck, you’re _good_ at this…” Loosening his hold on her hair, he cupped the back of her head, following as she began to bob up and down, her hand following with a firm, twisting stroke. 

He took her in, stroking his hand into her hair and pushing it back from her face. Her eyes were closed in concentration, focused on him. _Just_ him. And she looked perfect like this, submissive and eager and it was _doing_ things to him. She was enjoying this, too; he could tell.

He wasn’t the most experienced person, but he had enough to be able to tell between when someone was giving their partner oral out of obligation, out of a genuine desire to please, or because they got almost as much out of it as the receiving partner.

Tesabi was the latter.

“God, look at you…” He didn’t think it would have been possible for him to look away even if he’d wanted to. “You’re so happy to be down on your knees for me, aren’t you?” Tesabi whimpered, doing her best to nod while not breaking her rhythm. He caught the back of her head. “Hey.” Slowly, he pulled them apart. When she looked up, she swore she could see his cock twitch in her peripheral. “Do you want me to move you?”

She took a long, slow breath at the renewed surge of heat. Then she nodded, and he hummed with satisfaction as he cupped her jaw. “Good girl. Open for me.” With his other hand, he angled his cock back down, groaning softly as she opened her mouth, letting him slide back in along her tongue. 

He started slow, just rocking in and out and watching the way she just sat there for him, looking up with deceptively innocent eyes. She whined and frowned slightly when he pulled back, leaning forward until he tugged her back by the hair.

“Do you want it like that?” he purred. “Soft and gentle?” He stroked her bottom lip, curling in over her teeth and making her open her mouth again for him. Tesabi’s hands tightened reflexively, and then she shook her head in his grip. The chuckle above her was deep and rough. 

“You like a heavy hand, don’t you?” he said, just to make her squirm and blush. “I’ll give you what you want, but you have to keep a hand on me.” When she nodded again and lifted a hand, he released her jaw to direct it to his thigh. “Tap twice if you need me to stop, alright?”

“Fuck, Din.” She swallowed, _hard_ , her other hand digging into her own thigh as heat pulsed between her legs. The slight tilt of his head easily came across as a question, and she nodded again. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s good. I understand. Please—”

The choked off sound she made as he pushed back into her mouth quickly tapered off, eyes falling shut as she focused on relaxing her jaw and neck. Another shiver rolled through her at the half-broken sound the Mandalorian made above her, his hand fisting her hair and starting to move her again.

It wasn’t as slow as before, but he was still careful, watching her face and posture. He felt himself bump the back of her throat at the same time he saw her brows briefly furrow. But her hand was still flat against his thigh, warm and steady. So he kept going, measuring his thrusts in an effort to limit her discomfort. 

Tesabi exhaled softly through her nose, feeling her body go lax and soft even as her chest tightened with heated excitement. It was so easy to just cede control over to him, to submit to the push and pull of his firm hand. She could tell that he was being careful. Opening her eyes, she looked up at him. 

His hand tightened and twitched in her hair, hips stuttering and pushing deeper than he’d meant, past the resistance of her throat. The sound he made was frustrated and desperate, something that might have been an apology choked among the syllables. Tesabi grabbed him by the hips, not letting him pull away as she swallowed around his cock, her eyes watering. 

His hand cupped the back of her head as he pulled out and bucked back in. She whimpered, eyes squeezing shut. But she kept her hands on his hips, digging in and urging him on. 

“You _want_ —? Fuck. You’re such a good girl. Taking it _so_ —! Gods, Tesabi.” 

Then he was fucking her mouth in earnest, arousal twisted tight at the base of his spine. She whimpered around him, drool starting to run down her chin, eyes watering to the point of tears. It was hard and rough and she let go of him to plunge a hand between her own legs, working at her clit and trying her best to move her tongue under him.

Din saw what she was doing, growling as he forced himself to stop. He pulled her off of him by her hair, making her look up at him. Her lips were shining and swollen, eyes bright with tears. She looked absolutely _wrecked_ , and there was a moment where Din thought he would come right there.

Then Tesabi felt his hands under her arms, yanking her up until he could grab her thighs, lifting her again. It was easy to throw her arm over his shoulders, drawing his chest to hers and groaning brokenly as he pushed back inside her. She barely had time to revel in the tingling heat of skin-against-skin before he was fucking into her, hard and desperate.

His helmet was pressed tight into her neck, grinding into the wall, breath ragged in her ear. With her hand still trapped between them in _just_ the right spot, Tesabi felt her own climax twisting higher and higher, everything slick and hot and clenching. 

“Come on, you’ve—you’ve been so good for me,” he gasped. “Such a _good_ —took me _so well_.” He bucked in hard, grinding against her. “Let me—let me feel you come again.”

It took only a few more jerky strokes before she felt herself soaring upwards, breath stuttering as her body went tight, back arching. His growl in her ear was rough and full of static, and she made a choked sound as he fucked her through it. She was too lost in the drop back down—the rush of slick heat and her racing pulse—to feel him come, but she _heard_ him, felt him go still and shaking against her.

She was still trembling with aftershocks as she felt her sweat-slick back slide down the wall as Din went to his knees, sinking to the floor and hanging his head beside her. With her eyes closed, Tesabi listened to their breathing, rough and out of sync and loud against the quiet hum of the ship.

It took a long time for her to come back down, so deep in her pleasure and submission that it took Din cupping her cheek and softly calling her name. Opening her eyes, she blinked his shining helm into focus, and smiled. 

Din’s stomach swooped at the expression, lazy and almost feline in its contentment. His hand lingered on her cheek, the heat of her skin radiating against his palm. Her arms had gone slack, one still draped between their bodies. She lifted it and put her palm over his heart, carefully flattening it and spreading her fingers.

A thought occurred to her. They had ended up fucking because one of them had gotten hurt. A lot like the first time. She chuckled softly, shaking her head before looking up at him. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she murmured, eyes crinkled and fully of mirth. Her voice was rough, cracking slightly.

If Din wasn’t still slowly floating down from the high of endorphins, he was sure that the sound of her sex-roughened voice would have been enough to get him going all over again. As he eased back, her whole body shivered and arched as his cock slipped out of her, her eyes fluttering briefly closed. 

Even though he knew the cold floor couldn’t be comfortable to sit on, he couldn’t help but look. His hands stroked her trembling inner thighs soothingly, watching his come slowly oozing out of her. Looking up to her flushed face, he held her gaze as he pressed two fingers into her again.

Tesabi jerked and hissed, the sound tapering off into a whimper. She felt impossibly wet and sloppy, loose and relaxed and _wrecked_. The wet sound her body made as he thrust his fingers slowly made her whine, hips rocking weakly. She only sagged back when he pulled out, his helmet unmoving as he lifted his hand to her lips, fingers slick with both their fluids.

He didn’t have to say a word. Tesabi caught his wrist and leaned forward, sucking his fingers into her mouth to taste them. The thick, bitter salt of him mingled with her own, more familiar taste, and she sucked _hard_ on his fingers, lifting her eyes to him and grinning when she heard him groan softly.

When they separated again, Din looked over to where her clothes had been discarded. Following his gaze, Tesabi reached over, snagging her underwear with one hand and using it to clean herself. Then she was squirming forward, going half on her side as she leaned down and sucked his flagging erection into her mouth, startling a noise out of him as she did her best to clean him with a single, purposeful suck.

Din sat back hard when she released him, shaking his head at the devilish smirk on her face. “You are a _menace_ ,” he murmured, pausing a moment before he stood. 

Tesabi blinked as he held out a hand to her. When she took it, the Mandalorian hauled her easily to her feet, letting her have a moment to lean back against the wall as he began to redress himself. Her legs felt like jelly, and she could feel the slowing pulse of her heartbeat between her legs.

Din returned to her, putting careful, gloved hands on her hips, thumbs stroking slow circles. He took a moment to look her over again, and she seemed to relax a bit, hands stroking up his forearms. She was smiling when he looked back to her face.

“I like this,” he said. “Having you here with me. Us.” 

It was more than a partnership now. There was no escaping that. She was more than just his crew. He didn’t know _what_ she was exactly. Just that she was _more_ , and he liked it that way.

“I don’t… I don’t know how to handle… _this_ ,” he explained, turning and retrieving his cape to drape around her shoulders. “But I _like_ it. I want…” When the words didn’t come, he huffed softly in frustration.

Her smile was soft as she looked up at him, lifting a hand and tracing the concave part of his helmet over his cheek. “I like it, too,” she said. 

She wasn’t going to tell him. Wasn’t going to name how she felt about him. Not when it was so new.

So she widened her smile into a smirk, crinkling her eyes with mischief. “You’re never getting rid of me now.”

Din couldn’t help himself. He laughed.


End file.
